


Blood Moon

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, F/M, Little bit of Blood Play sorta, No Dialogue, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Some biting, Unsafe Sex, Vaguely Femdom-y (what isn't in this fandom tho), despite the suggestive title there is no menstruation in this fic fyi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 22:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4893904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only the barest sliver of moon in the sky that night, shining high above the Salt and just beginning to wax fuller, a good omen for journeys and new beginnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of/during the ~supermoon total eclipse~ the other night- because watching our favorite natural satellite turn bloody red _totally_ was a romantic date with millions of strangers across the world, and that sort of thing deserves smut.
> 
> Also I wanted to see if I could write something that wasn't an AU, so here we are with a missing scene!

There's only the barest sliver of moon in the sky that night, shining high above the Salt and just beginning to wax fuller, a good omen for journeys and new beginnings. Ascribing meaning to the cycle of the moon was something that had no place back at the Citadel, but here among the Vuvalini it seems important once again.

Furiosa had offered a spot in their convoy to their Fool with one eye on that hanging crescent, and it felt like a slap not when he turned the offer down (she expected no less from someone as flighty as him), but when he cautioned her against holding out hope. That he was tormented by his own demons was clear to see, but it seemed an insult against all the new moon represented to suggest that no one else should try for more than bare survival, either. She had left him to his own thoughts gladly, returning to the welcoming circle of her remaining kin.

When the cutting wind off the plains dies away it becomes obvious that Capable and her War Boy were enjoying the peaceful lull of night from their nest atop the War Rig, soft gasps and muffled groans filtering down to the rest of them.

It sets the Vuvalini talking, remembering days gone by when they might have shared flesh for pleasure as much as to kindle new life and keep their ranks strong. The odds of anything sparking from the half-life's seed, much less being sustained, were practically nonexistent- but it was still a good omen to have such a union before the journey ahead.

When Cheedo and the Dag make their excuses to leave the circle Furiosa finds herself casting her eye towards the hunched form of the Fool where he sits removed, twitching at every particularly loud noise from the Rig above.

He was fairly healthy, and handsome enough, and there was no telling when she'd next find an agreeable man. She could ignore the idle pulse of desire pooling in her belly, stay by the fire and listen to her elders speak of the past, but then she would waste the chance to indulge in one last farewell fuck before riding out into the Salt.

It doesn't take much to lure the Fool to the valley of a dune on the other side of the War Rig, out of sight of anyone who isn't looking too hard but reachable should trouble arise. She doesn't waste words to make her offer, just unwraps the blanket from her shoulders to spread it down cross the sand, quirks an eyebrow at him in question. He looks surprised, jerks his head to cast his gaze around as if looking for signs of a trap, but makes no move to retreat.

It's as good an agreement as Furiosa expects from a half-mute feral, and with a careful hand on the leather of his jacket she tugs him to the ground. He falls to his knees alongside her willingly enough, settles himself with care for the braced leg he carries around.

The Fool brings one of his hands to cup the back of he head, not pulling her in for a kiss like she expects but just darting his eyes around her face, searching for something maybe. It sets her on edge and she tugs sharply on his jacket, brings him in close enough to press her lips against his harshly. They're as dry and chapped as her own but every bit as plush as they looked, and after a moment he kisses back, hesitant at first as if he doesn't quite remember how.

His other hand settles on the curve of her waist, unprotected with just the wrapped fabric she wears under all her bracing. It has her itching to shed some of his layers in return, and she scrabbles at the straps of his pack with hand and stump both until he breaks the kiss to shrug out of it. His jacket falls to the sand alongside the pack and then his lips are back on hers, no longer at all cautious but hungrily devouring her mouth.

The Fool make a wordless noise and leans his weight against her, plants one hand in the sand by her hip with the other pressing against her shoulder, urging her down.

The presumption of it has Furiosa pushing back, twisting so that he's off-balance. He pulls away from her mouth to make a displeased sound not unlike a growl, the sort of animal vocalization he'd made during their fight only two days past, and it sets a shiver down her spine to mingle with the arousal she feels. She looks him in the eye to see a reflection of her own tangled desires, and bares her teeth at him in challenge and acknowledgment.

She'll not roll over and let him take her, and that he doesn't acquiesce either pleases the dark primal parts of her that long for blood and sweat and adrenaline. Without warning his hand darts out to grab her whole arm, the movement hidden in the darkness of the new moon, and in response Furiosa kicks out one of her legs to twine around his waist.

Within moments they're tangled in each other, fighting for the upper hand as they roll around the impromptu arena. It's nothing like their desperate struggle of earlier, but neither does it bear much resemblance to the sparring she sometimes took part in back at the Citadel.

They're well matched, shortcomings and strengths balanced, and without the threat of death hanging over their heads... It's almost playful, the sort of tussling Pups enjoy before they learn what it means to hold another's life in the crook of your arm. There's no danger here but no innocence either, not with the way she can feel him hard against her when she squirms, the way she's growing slicker with every twist of his muscled body.

They steal kisses and nips as they struggle against each other, hips rutting whenever they meet flesh until they're both breathing heavily from more than just the exertion. One of them has started bleeding, she can't tell who, but the metallic tang of it fills her mouth with each swipe of her tongue, urging her on.

At last Furiosa pins the Fool half on the blanket, her hand pressed to his throat and his arm twisted up under him, the other reaching for a fistful of sand. Throwing it into her eyes would be a step too far for such a tussle, and he realizes it as well as she because first his hand, then the rest of him, relaxes in defeat.

Flush with victory Furiosa grinds her hips down on the hardness she can feel through their leathers, swallows the groan it elicits with a bloody kiss.

It's simple enough to undo his trousers and free his cock for her, more of an endeavor to shuck her own far enough out of the way. She doesn't take him inside immediately. She's wet enough for it, the fight having stirred her blood up to where she's on edge already, but she has no intentions of letting him off so easily.

Instead Furiosa reaches down to arrange her folds over his stiff cock, rubbing herself along the length of it, and shivers at the feel of his heated skin dragging against her cunt.

The Fool moans like a man dying, reaches one of his hands out blindly to grope at her chest. He finds a nipple through the layers of cloth and rolls it between his fingers, before hauling himself up to bring his mouth close to bite at her breast. Blunted through her shirt it only has her gasping at the pressure, hips stuttering against his cock while her hand works at her aching clit.

He lets go and moves to ruck her shirt up out of the way but Furiosa presses him back to the sand with her free arm, wanting him laid out and vulnerable for her while she takes her pleasure. The winner of their scuffle gets to set terms, and she has no intention of baring more of her skin than necessary.

She continues to grind on his twitching erection, presses her weight down to stop his hips from jerking up under her while she enjoys the drag of skin on skin. It's not quite enough to come, not until his other hand clutches at her ass and pulls her down against him heavily, and the unexpected movement has her fingers skittering over her clit in exactly the right way.

Furiosa rides out her release with a low moan, rocking her hips down along his cock until the waves of pleasure turn back to a more steady throbbing and she can focus enough to tell how impatient he's getting at not being let come himself. Then she leans back down to kiss him, bracing herself with her stump on his chest, her hand leaving her cunt to give a vicious little tug at his balls.

In response he growls and bucks his hips, teeth clamping down on her lower lip. She's lax and unbalanced enough from her orgasm that when he surges under her she lets herself get flipped, wrist clamped in one of his hands while the other splays out to hold himself above her, hovering.

The reality of a nearly full-dressed man above her, hard cock inches from her open cunt, would have once had her struggling with every fiber of her being to be free. Now it's a choice she's free to make, an offer from someone proved reliable, and with the sliver of the crescent moon in view she just licks off the blood he'd left on her lips, hooks one leg around his waist to pull him in closer.

Something in the Fool's face goes strangely soft, pleased perhaps by her willingness. There can't be too many eager fucks out in the wastes, she thinks, and finds herself canting her hips in further invitation. Might be the last tolerable tumble for her as well, now she's headed out into the Salt, and she intends to enjoy it.

He releases her hand in order to grab at himself, guides his cock into her cunt. Between her earlier orgasm and the slick she'd smeared over his shaft it's no more than a satisfying stretch, a long slide of smooth friction as he works himself in to the hilt, and Furiosa lets out a pleased sigh when he bottoms out.

She hooks her stump around the back of his neck, draws him in close so she can kiss his stupidly soft lips while he rocks back and forth inside her. The Fool's not moving anywhere near as fast or hard as she anticipated, but the movements he does make are skillfully aimed, dragging across the sensitive front of her walls with delicious pressure.

The pace picks up when Furiosa clenches down around him, her hand moving down to work at her clit again and bring back the buzz of oncoming orgasm. He breaks away from her mouth to groan out something that might be meant as some sort of endearment, and the incongruity of it startles a bark of laughter out of her.

The Fool looks mildly offended by this, pausing his movements while still buried inside her until she squirms, surges up to fuck herself on his cock if he won't do the work for her.

He relents and starts moving again, sharp snaps of his hips that have her tightening her arm's hold on him lest she be pushed up by the force of it. She works her way to coming a second time on this frantic pace, cunt spasming around the stretch of him, sinks her teeth down into the meat of his shoulder to stifle the moan that wants to break free.

There was no doubt that the entire party already knew what they were up to, but there was no sense inviting danger by being overly-loud and careless. Or perhaps Furiosa just wanted to feel his solid flesh under her teeth, give him a mark to remember her by.

The Fool stutters to a halt not long after she moves from biting to gentle licks- half apology and half to check whether she'd broken skin- spending himself with a breathy gasp. He stays buried inside her cunt for a long few seconds before slipping out, sliding to collapse besides her on the blanket, head pillowed on her chest.

It's more contact than Furiosa's quite sure she wants, now the fucking is over with, but he hasn't tried to pin her down with his weight or cage her in with his limbs, so she allows it for the moment.

Letting him come inside her was perhaps a poor choice, not for the danger of pregnancy- Mothers know she has little to fear there- but for the inevitable mess it creates. Already she can feel the smears of their shared fluids drying on her skin and she shifts, uncomfortable at the growing itch.

The Fool grumbles under his breath when she moves, lifts his head to blink blearily at her, looking nothing like the feral Road Warrior he really was. Furiosa indulges in a small smile at seeing him so out-of-sorts, pats the stubbled side of his face as if he were a favored Pup. He nuzzles into the contact easily, eyes slipping back shut with a contented sigh.

Experience has shown her that men were always vulnerable and soft after a fuck, but it never stopped being a novelty to see. A reliable man was worth a lot out in the wastes and she'll regret him not joining them, but- though the thought does occur to her- she won't use his relaxed state to manipulate him into changing his mind.

In another moment Furiosa will pull her clothing back into place and return to the camp to catch what sleep she can, but for now she lays on the soft sand and watches the slow wheeling of stars overhead, charts the moon's progress. The warmth of the Fool besides her is a pleasant change from the brisk wind, and it would be a pity to waste such a simple creature comfort while it's offered.

 


End file.
